Director John Savournin’s rule for updating opera is that it “must add something worth adding”. Happily, relocating The Merry Widow from the Parisian glamour at the turn of the last century, Savournin finds accurate parallels with 1950s New York mafia featuring the Boss, the Family and the Mob. Scottish Opera’s joint production with Opera Holland Park and D’Oyly Carte was lavish, sumptuous, the fun beginning with the housekeeping announcement delivered in broad gangster accent introducing conductor Stuart Stratford as “stick man Stewie”.
For their big bold productions, Scottish Opera boosts the budget through a ‘Play Your Part’ appeal where everything from a singer to a buttonhole can be supported. Sets from designer takis were vividly detailed and imaginative, Don Zeta’s penthouse a veritable showpiece with a hidden picture puzzle, the New York panorama unfolding beyond the windows. The Villa, with a lovers’ balcony and lemon trees, seemingly wafted Sicilian summer zephyrs, cleverly morphing in front of us to the final club scene oozing faded decadence. Lise Bondu and the costume team produced wonderful party frocks and sharp suits, pastel holiday attire for Sicily and a riot of Basque outfits back in New York’s Maxim’s, Don Zeta’s cabaret bar. Hanna Glawari’s delicately hand-painted fabric dress in Act 2 was particularly stunning, sparkles catching the light as she twirled.
Operetta sits somewhere between true opera and musical, Scottish Opera leaning to the former with un-miked performers providing a smooth transition between dialogue and sung numbers. Performed in a new English translation by David Eaton and Savournin himself, spoken words were clear and the music well-balanced. There was certain elegance, but the extended dialogues, particularly in the busy first act, became tiresome in places. With plenty of capering from the menacing but hapless Mob, Savournin’s cast were faultless in their comic timing including presenting Don Zeta with a cement mixer on his birthday which somehow accompanied him to Sicily in case a spot of overseas Concrete Club action was required. Not everything had us rolling in the aisles, but the production grew in stature as the dialogue thinned and the tuneful music became more prominent.
In a big show, 14 principals and chorus were all impeccably directed by Savournin and drilled by choreographer Kally Lloyd-Jones whose vibrant tapestry of impressive set pieces thrilled throughout alongside tiny characterful vignettes you had to be quick to catch. Ben Pickersgill’s lighting followed the mood of the music, bringing a glow to the lush costumes and sets. The chorus of extended family and can-can girls vocally prepared by their director Susannah Wapshott were robust in song and deft on their feet.
The principals splendidly piloted the tale of marital infidelity, business with a fan, the valuable lemon tree plantation inheritance and love lost and found. Completely grasping the demands of operetta, Henry Waddington, as mafia boss Don Zeta, and Alex Otterburn, as Danilo his consigliere, were masterly. Otterburn’s bright and breezy baritone was a good match for Paula Sides’ spirited Hanna, the Merry Widow of a Sicilian mafia boss. Her “Vilja” aria was a delightful break from the knockabout horseplay as was the Kolo dance and duet. Elsewhere, Rhian Lois as the cheating Valentina sang well though William Morgan as her would-be lover Camille de Rosillon’s tenor sounded slightly stretched. However, the ensemble shone in moving the action along, the women calling the shots behind the smiles and “sleeping with the fish”. Who could resist the men’s snappy chorus-line marching septet “It’s a Problem”? So good they did it twice.
Stratford, celebrating ten years with Scottish Opera, had the orchestra sounding on top form. Quieter moments were handled with luminous string solo work, nuanced passages with a guitar and mandolins joining the harp. Lehár’s infectious score was the clear winner, Stratford propelling his forces to a thrilling swell, putting a swing to the famous waltz and a snap to Maxim’s naughty can-can dancers.